A Thousand Words
by helenoftroyxo
Summary: Once again, shortened sumamry: Hermione and Draco are unknowingly assigned as pen pals. What happens when they begin falling in love, and finally meet?
1. To My Pen Pal

A/N: Yes...I admit it, I've started yet another fic. I promise I won't desert the other ones I'm currently working on, though! This one was just itching to be written, and I couldn't keep pushing it away.

A little background info that either wasn't noticeable in the text or just not there: the fic starts near the beginning of Hermione and Draco's seventh year at Hogwarts, Draco and Hermione are going to be OOC at points (especially during the letters), and Hermione is dating Ron (they've been dating for a year now). Also, I know the idea is kind of awkward - I hate incorporating Muggle ideas into HP fics - but I couldn't think of any other way to name it so you'll just have to bear with it :P

Okay, now that I've bored you enough with my rambling, onto the fic! I might not update this one much, because school is starting for me again and having 5 fics on my hands is quite a responsibility, but I'll try to at least get in a chapter once a month (or more than that). Oh, and please **R&R**! Hearing good (not so much bad ones :P) comments from reviewers makes writing a lot easier.

**CHAPTER 1**: To My Pen Pal

"...will write to them at least once a month, and they will be required to reply within a week. These letters to each other will not be read by anyone other than the eyes they were intended for, so there is no need to worry about your private thoughts getting into the wrong hands," finished Dumbledore, smiling knowingly at the students that sat before him in the Great Hall. "And now, slips of paper containing the number assigned to the student you will be pen pals with should appear on your plates. Keep in mind that no one knows what number they have been assigned to, so to those curious students wanting to ask around, there will be no point to in doing so."

Hermione looked expectantly down at her plate. The pen pal challenge Dumbledore had just proposed to the school sounded like it would be an interesting experience. Of course, it was an idea originally started by Muggles, but surely it would be just as much fun among the students at her school._ Although_, she thought wryly, _it might be more appropriately named if it were called a quill pal challenge._

At that moment, a slip of paper appeared on the golden plate before her with a tiny _pop_. Excitedly, Hermione grabbed it and unfolded it. A bold "137" was written on it. She bit back a grin, then turned to her boyfriend, Ron Weasley. "What number did you get?" she asked, despite the fact that her asking wouldn't make a difference.

"256," he replied, not sounding the least bit interested in the challenge.

Hermione tut-tutted at his lack of enthusiasm, then grabbed her bag. "_I'm_ going to go start on my letter right now," she announced. Ron shrugged, as did their best friend, Harry Potter.

"Bye Hermione," they both mumbled through mouthfuls of food.

Hermione rolled her eyes, gave Ron a quick peck on the cheek, then strode off to the library where she would be able to write in peace.

As she walked through the winding corridors of Hogwarts, she let her mind wander to the latest challenge the headmaster had given them. _Tell a mystery person all your thoughts, your goals, your secrets,_ she thought. _It's so frightening yet captivating at the same time._

"What are you doing here, mudblood?" came a sneering voice, interrupting her thoughts.

Hermione started, and looked in the direction the voice had come from. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Draco Malfoy, a Slytherin student who was also in her year, leaning against a suit of armour with his arms crossed.

"It's called a public hallway," she replied with gritted teeth. "And if you must know, I'm going to the library."

"Not very surprising," he said in a bored voice. "I suppose you're going to write your first letter to your pen pal?"

Surprised, Hermione nodded. "How did you know?"

"It's obvious," he drawled. "You're holding a piece of parchment, a quill, and a slip of paper. I pity whoever turns out to be your pen pal."

"Not as much as I pity yours," Hermione replied, her anger surfacing again. Trying to calm herself, she took a deep breath then said, "I'm leaving."

"You do that," Draco answered carelessly.

Hermione spun around on her heel and marched around the corner. She could feel Draco's eyes following her as she walked away. _Ugh, I hate him_, she thought furiously as she stomped into the library.

The librarian, Madam Pince, glared at Hermione as she stormed by. Blushing, Hermione apologized profusely and quieted her steps. She made her way through the rows of bookshelves to a study area in the back of the library. It was small and circular, and consisted of a low table surrounded by five pouffes of various colours. She settled down on a purple one covered in a velvet-like fabric, arranged her parchment, quill, and ink bottle on the table before her, then sat back to decide what to write.

_Well,_ she thought, _I guess I could tell him or her about Ron, without mentioning his name. Hmm, him or her...I wonder whether my pen pal is a girl or a boy? I suppose I could just go with boy for now. He probably wouldn't want to hear about Ron then. Well, I certainly can't tell him about school, he'd probably get bored after one or two lines and chuck the letter out. I wonder what house he's in...Hopefully Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, although Hufflepuff would be wonderful too. I don't know_ what _I would do if he turned out to be in Slytherin, though._

The mere thought of confessing her private thoughts to a Slytherin made her shiver in disgust. _Hopefully I didn't get that unlucky._

At last, Hermione decided that she would write about herself - if they were going to pen pals for the rest of the school year, it was best that he know everything about her before her second letter. Pleased with this decision, she took her quill in hand, dipped it in the ink bottle, and began to write.

_To my pen pal,_

_I'm not exactly sure how to address you, seeing as all I know about you is your number. Unfortunately, I can't write it down, as tempting as it is. But in a way, not knowing who these words are being sent to is more thrilling and mysterious, don't you think? To make it easier on the both of us, though, maybe we could make up nicknames for ourselves, and we could use those to address each other. If you like this idea, feel free to come up with a name for yourself and send it to me in your next letter._

_It took me a long time to decide what to write. I mean, there are so many things I want to tell you. I've never really had anyone whom I could tell all my secrets to. I've had diaries and journals, but it's different saying all of this to a real, live person. Different in a good way, that is. But after thinking for a long time, I decided that I would just tell you a little about myself, so you can get to know what kind of person I am._

_I could write about my favourite things here, but that would be boring. So I'll tell you about the deeper side of me, the part I rarely show anyone. Everyone sees me as this bookworm who's obsessed with her schoolwork. There are other parts to me though. For instance, I'm a very person to confide in when a friend is having problems dealing with life or relationships. I suppose it's partly because of my ability to look at things in a logical way, but also because I have a way of understanding people when no one else does. I can get along with nearly everyone. Well, everyone excepting a boy I know. The first time I saw him, I disliked him immediately, but as I grew to know him a little more, I began to pity him. He always acts like a jerk towards my friends and I, but it's not his fault - his parents, after all, raised him to be that way. I can almost understand why he's so rude to everyone, even if I don't like it. Nevertheless, he hates my kind - I'm what you would call half-blood - so I would never talk to him._

_As I look back on the last paragraph, I'm surprised I even wrote that. I've never told anyone, not even my two best friends. So far, this challenge is going easier than I initially expected it to. I thought it would be hard to tell a stranger secrets I can't even tell those close to me, but the words seem to be flowing out of my quill on their own accord. Oh dear, time has flown by since I sat down and started this letter. It's already been 40 minutes. I have 15 minutes before I have to go to class, so I'll tell you one last random fact about me before ending this letter. When it snows, I love to sit on the windowsill in my dormitory and look out the window. Watching the flakes of snow drift down toward the blanket of white covering the ground is so beautiful that I can't put it into words. There's something about it that's just so romantic and dreamy - yes, I'm a very romantic person._

_Now I have to end this, because I have 8 minutes left to get to my Potions class. I'm sorry about this first letter being so short. Please write back as soon as you have the time to. I look forward to reading your letter._

_Sincerely, your pen pal (I'm still thinking of a name)_

------

Draco slammed his quill down in frustration. This was too much. He slung his school bag over his shoulder and strode out of the Slytherin common room. _Honestly,_ he thought, glaring over his shoulder at the chattering group of students sitting around a round table, _that lot is too noisy for its own good._

He took the stone steps leading to the dormitories two at a time, fuming the entire time. As a seventh year, his dormitory was at the very top of the tower, and by the time he had collapsed on his bed, he was exhausted.

Flinging his bag across the room where it landed with a _thump_ under the window, Draco rested his head on his hands as he tried to catch his breath. _A guy can't even do his goddamn homework in peace, _he thought furiously.

At that moment, Draco was interrupted by the arrival of a large barn owl. It flew in through the open half of the window, landing on his pillow. He growled at it, causing it to screech in alarm and hop onto his desk instead.

"What do you want?" Draco asked the owl, though he wasn't exactly sure why he was talking to it in the first place.

It hooted and held out its leg. Surprised to see a piece of parchment rolled up and tied to the leg of the owl, Draco reached out and relieved the creature of its load. The moment he had removed the letter, its carrier gave a hoot of indignation and flew out the window.

"Bloody birds," Draco mumbled under his breath as he untied the knotted string around the letter. After a few moments' struggle, he freed the parchment and unrolled it, curious as to why this letter had been delivered personally rather than at the Great Hall in the morning.

He had just enough time to read the words "To my pen pal" written neatly at the top of the letter before the dormitory room was flung open and his two friends, Crabbe and Goyle, trudged into the room.

"What are you doing up here, Malfoy?" Crabbe asked rather stupidly.

"Getting away from you two and the rest of them downstairs," Draco snapped, annoyed at the interruption.

The other two Slytherins exchanged confused looks, then Goyle said, "Pansy wants you to go downstairs. She says she has something to tell you."

"Whatever," Draco muttered in reply. He rolled up the parchment again and stood up. "I'm going for a walk," he announced. "And no, you can't come with me."

His friends shrugged. "Just make sure Pansy doesn't come up here and try to find you herself," Goyle said, looking frightened.

Draco shook his head incredulously. "She comes up here? _In _here?"

Crabbe nodded fearfully.

"That girl doesn't know when to quit," he said, disgusted. "Well, I'm leaving now. Have fun eating or whatever you do up here."

They waved good-bye, and Draco stalked out of the room. As he made his way down the stairs, he checked the top of the page to make sure he had read correctly earlier. Yep, the words "To my pen pal" were still there. _Who'd be so eager to get started on this stupid challenge that they'd send their letter the day they found out about it?_ he wondered. The first person that came to mind was the mudblood, Hermione Granger. _Nah, it can't be her; there's no way Dumbledore would be so cruel as to do that._

"Draco!" squealed a voice from a few feet in front of him.

Draco looked up at the sudden interruption, heart sinking when he realized that it was Pansy who had caught sight of him. _Of all people_, he thought with a silent groan.

"I'm going somewhere right now," he said shortly, trying to brush past her.

She continued to stand in his way. "I'll go with you," she said eagerly.

"I'd rather you not," Draco said plainly, now attempting to push her arm out of the way. However, all he managed to do was make her giggle at his touch. She seemed truly determined to not let him go without her. "Pansy," he said, dropping his voice to a dangerously low level, "get the hell out of my way or I'll tell Zabini you fancied him in third year."

Pansy's mouth dropped open and her already too-large blue eyes grew even larger. "You wouldn't!" she gasped.

"You know nothing would stop me," he replied, irritated by her inability to accept the fact that he didn't want to speak to her at the moment. "Now move."

Her bottom lip began trembling, but she followed his order. "I'll wait for you upstairs then!" she called out after his retreating form.

"I can't wait," he yelled back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. _Merlin, I hope she's not my pen pal. That would be the most dreadful experience of my life._

Draco soon reached the portrait hole and easily climbed through it. Landing on the ground on the other side nimbly, he checked around for any wandering students, found none, and pulled out the letter. Because night had fallen around the castle, the corridors were dark. The torches along the walls provided barely enough light to read the tiny print on the parchment, so as Draco walked along the hallways, he pulled out his wand, whispered "_Lumos_," and began to read by the light of his wand.


	2. Shadow

**CHAPTER 2**: Shadow

_To my pen pal,_

_I was surprised to receive a letter from you so early. I'm slightly pleased about it though, because writing a reply gives me an excuse to stay away from the other students in my common room - they tend to get annoyingly loud whenever I want some quiet time. I like your nickname idea, and after a long time thinking about it, I decided to make mine "Shadow." There's a rather long story behind it, but since there's not much I feel like I can tell you right now (perhaps in later letters), I will tell it to you._

_There really is no specific event the name is based off of. Basically, all my life I've lived as a shadow. It started the day I was born. My father passed on his worst qualities to me, as did my mother. Growing up, I hardly even felt like a full person - just a shadow of my parents. And because of it, all I can do is stay as far away from the sun as possible. Wherever light moves, I move in the opposite direction. It's a bit like I'm running away from the better side of the world, because the dark side is the only place I can relate to. Complicated, isn't it?_

_Unlike you, I'm having a hard time with this challenge. Never once in my life have I confided my thoughts to anyone, not even a journal. I've always assumed that I could just handle all of it on my own, and to be honest, I have. But now that I've started this letter, it feels almost nice to get it all on paper and know that someone who won't judge me for what they see will be reading it._

_The boy you referred to sounds like someone I'm very close with. We're not friends, but I know him very well. You're right in your speculation - it _is_ because of his parents that he's turned out that way. Please, if we happen to be thinking about the same person, don't pity him. I'm sure he would take your sympathy as an insult, as kindly meant as it is. Yet at the same time, don't believe he's the person you think he is. After knowing him for many years, I can assure you that there are, like for you, sides of him that he rarely shows._

_Well, since you told me two bits of information about yourself, it would only be fair for me to do the same. Of course, you already know one - the shadow one. The second? Well, you bringing up watching the snow reminded me of something I love to do which is very similar to that - I love to watch the rain. To sit on a window sill and watch the rain fall heavily, drenching everything on the ground beneath it...Believe it or not, that's one of my favourite pastimes. There's something so powerful in the fact that with although one raindrop is so tiny and will barely even move a flower, a thousand raindrops can drown it. I suppose it's rather romantic if you think about it long enough._

_Merlin's beard, it's already 2:00 AM. I'm currently writing this in an unknown corridor because the people in my house like to stay up until the early morning and be insufferably loud. The last thing I want is for one of them to read this letter. Anyway, I should return to my common room now - they all should've gone to bed by now. If I have time, I will send this letter tomorrow morning._

_Sincerely, Shadow_

Draco put down his quill and rubbed his fingers, which were cramped from writing continuously for so long. Multiple thoughts were swirling about in his head, but he kept going back to one - the fact that his pen pal was a mudblood. When he had read that part of her letter, he'd been on the verge of chucking it out, but curiosity had kept him reading. Strangely enough, he'd felt compelled to write back, even though his mind was telling him that writing to a mudblood was a very degrading act indeed.

Draco frowned at the letter he had written in response. "Amazing how all of that actually came from me," he murmured. "I'll probably regret doing this tomorrow morning."

As he reread his own neat handwriting, Draco's frown deepened. For the first time in his life, he'd actually let his guard down and showed the softer, weaker side of him. It was something new to him, and he wasn't sure whether he liked it or not. When Draco got to the fourth paragraph, he stopped. Picking up his pen pal's letter, he read over her description about the boy she knew for the eighth time. His heart sunk when he realized how truly similar he and this boy were. _I hope she doesn't mean me, _he thought grimly. But then again, there were hundreds of boys like that - it was highly unlikely that she could actually be referring to him.

With a yawn, Draco began packing up his writing supplies. Once he had his quill and letter back in his pocket, he stood up from the ledge he had been sitting on. Before he left, he paused and turned to look out the window at the night sky. _Please, _he silently prayed to the stars that shone brightly overhead the lake, _make this person trustworthy. Let me trust someone with my secrets for once in my life._

------

"Hey Ron!" Hermione chirped happily as she sat down next to her boyfriend at the Gryffindor table for breakfast the next day.

"'Lo Hermione," he replied, leaning over to kiss her before going back to scribbling on a torn piece of parchment.

"What's that?" she asked curiously as she began to pile scrambled eggs onto her plate. "And where's Harry?"

"This?" Ron asked, looking up and gesturing at what he was writing.

Hermione nodded and began buttering a piece of toast.

"Oh, this is my letter to my pen pal," he answered carelessly. "And I have no idea where Harry is. Probably sleeping in."

Hermione frowned. "Why's it so messy?" she asked bluntly.

Ron shrugged. "I left my blank rolls of parchment back in my dormitory and I didn't feel like going back to get them, so I tore a piece off of my Charms essay." He frowned, then added, "It was 7 inches shorter than it was supposed to be."

Sighing, Hermione restrained herself from scolding him about doing his homework, and went back to putting jam on her toast.

Just then, Harry appeared, panting as if he had just run a long way. He was clutching a roll of parchment in one hand and a quill in the other. "Just finished my letter to my pen pal!" he announced as he sat down heavily across the table from Hermione.

"Have you now?" she asked interestedly. "How long was it?"

"A foot," he replied proudly. "Pretty good if I do say so myself."

"Good job," Hermione said admiringly. His was only a few inches shorter than hers. She had expected Harry to, like Ron, not spent much time on the challenge, but she was glad to see that he was trying to give it some effort.

Ron looked up, his ears red. "Way to make me look bad, Harry," he muttered.

Hermione laughed. "So what did you write about?" she asked Harry.

"Oh, you know, stuff," he said, waving his hand around in the air. "How about you?"

"Same here," Hermione replied with a nod. If Harry was going to be secretive about it, she might as well do the same.

"Anything you haven't told me?" Ron joked.

Hermione blushed and responded, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I told him quite a few things about me that you don't know."

"'Him'?" Ron asked sharply. "Your pen pal is a guy?"

Shrugging, Hermione took a bite of her toast and replied, "I'm assuming he is."

"And what did you tell him?" Ron asked suspiciously. He seemed to have forgotten about his half-finished letter, and was now staring at Hermione with a raised eyebrow.

"It's secret!" she answered hotly.

"You'll tell some mystery guy your secrets but not me?" Ron asked indignantly.

Hermione sighed. Why was Ron getting so worked up over this? It wasn't like she was confessing her love to another guy. "Ron, you know this is supposed to be private. And I didn't tell him anything you'd actually be interested in."

"But I'm your boyfriend, Hermione," he cried incredulously. "You're supposed to tell me these things, even if I don't want to hear them."

Now slightly annoyed, Hermione said firmly, "Stop making a big deal out of it. I don't know this person and they don't know me, so what does it matter if they know a secret of mine? It's not even a big secret!"

"That's not the point!" Ron argued back, his voice rising. People around them were beginning to stare at them, and Harry was biting his lip, looking unsure about what to do.

"Erm...guys..." Harry said timidly. "You might want to take this somewhere else..."

"There won't be a need to do that," Hermione said angrily. "I'm leaving."

Standing up, she grabbed her bag and shot one last glare over her shoulder at Ron. As she stormed through the rows of students, heads turned and whispers arose. Ron simply stood there with his mouth hanging open. "What did I do?" he asked Harry as the doors slammed shut after his girlfriend.

Harry simply shook his head. "Girls," he muttered.

As the two friends sat back down in their seats, stormy grey eyes from across the hall fixed their gaze on the empty seat next to Ron. For a moment, Draco stared at the spot where Hermione was just sitting minutes ago, then without a word, he returned to his conversation with Blaise Zabini.

A/N: Sorry Draco was so OOC in this chapter!


End file.
